


Orotund

by Lumieerie



Series: Ghost & Ashes: DELETED SCENES [1]
Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Banter, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Minor Injuries, Rambling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25237591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumieerie/pseuds/Lumieerie
Summary: Ugh, emotions.Liam missed when he was a careless bastard who taunted Sidewinder and ran amuck in New Orleans.
Relationships: Liam Bell/Preston
Series: Ghost & Ashes: DELETED SCENES [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828279
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Orotund

**Author's Note:**

> Orotund.  
> (Adj.) Speaking, or singing, with fullness, strength, and clarity of sound or voice
> 
> We've been working on Ghost & Ashes so long and have decided to post some of the deleted one-shots !!  
> Set in the Ghost & Ashes universe, but this was mostly inspired by [ Jena's ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinfic) two fics where Presliam re-introduce themselves to [ tyzane ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789520) and [ julecam](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861541)

Liam dressed in silence, looking around his room for a decent shirt. He picked the first clean one he found and held it in his hands, stopping to look at himself in the mirror. He frowned. He looked sleep-deprived. His left eye was swollen, upper lip holding a cut from where glass kissed it, what looked to be claw marks just above his collarbone, and scattered bruises all over his abdomen and chest. If he turned around, more scratches would be on his back. He laughed bitterly, dark blue eyes a numbing cold as he stared at himself. _Pathetic_.

He didn’t even know where to begin if someone asked him what the hell happened to him. Well, he could just tell them the truth. Liam laughed again. _Like they would believe him_. He exhaled and turned to put his shirt on. 

And immediately stopped.

Preston leaned against the door frame, expression neutral. That didn’t mean much, however, because Preston always looked neutral. “You look like you let that detective torture you,” he commented.

“I would prefer him over who the real culprit was,” Liam snorted. He finally pulled his shirt on and smiled at Preston. “Nicholas does this sort of thing with class: my assailant from last night did not.” Then he added, “Though Nicholas hasn’t felt the need to hit me for years now.” Was it wrong to be joking about Nick like that? Liam almost cared enough to retract his statement, instead, he sat on the bed and grabbed for his shoes. He winced as he moved but otherwise ignored the pain.

God, it hurt. The last time he’d said something hurt, a madman with a knife carved an A in his chest. He still had a faded scar. Liam swallowed that thought and pushed it away. He could think about that later, right now he needed to gear up and… he didn’t know what he was going to do once he left.

“Liam.” Preston knelt before him and waited for Liam to look at him. “Who did this to you?”

He could lie. He’s lied before. Up until now, lying had always gotten him to this point. “His name was Aurel, but it doesn’t matter because I’m going to go kick his ass.” That was somewhat the truth, at least.

Then Preston reached for his hands. “That can wait.” His voice was a shadow in the air, barely audible save for how close the two of them were. “Let me patch you up.”

Something cracked deep inside Liam, little fissures spreading through the invisible walls he’s kept up for years. Liam blamed it on the fact that he’d spent the last year alone with Preston, helping him recover. It was natural for friendship to bloom out of proximity. Though it wasn’t really friendship that had bloomed. Codependency maybe. No, that wasn’t right either. But what was right felt fake- like a plastic flower bought at a dollar store. Fake but everlasting and always present.

“Okay,” he croaked. As Preston left the room for supplies, Liam debated on running. He wouldn’t get far, whether it was because it was Preston he’d be running from or because of his injuries Liam wasn’t sure, but there was not a chance in hell of a success. Annoyance flooded him as he rolled his eyes. He should be grateful Preston was even going to do this for him, but all of this just furthered his realization of his feelings for the man. 

_Ugh, emotions._

Liam missed when he was a careless bastard who taunted Sidewinder and ran amuck in New Orleans. 

Preston returned with a first aid kit and stared at Liam blankly. “In the movies, patients are usually shirtless.” 

“Oh, we’re in a movie now?” Even as the question left his mouth, Liam chuckled softly. 

“Well you’re on a high horse like every other action star in a movie,” Preston said smugly. “You’re also dramatic and a crybaby, so yes, we’re in a movie.” 

“You don’t pull any punches, do you?” 

“No, now take off your shirt.”

He grumbled something along the lines that Preston was a terrible nurse, but Liam acquiesced nonetheless. Then in a dramatic display of payback, he tossed the shirt at Preston’s face and had a moment of satisfactory glee before Preston threw the shirt right back at him. “You’re no fun,” Liam huffed. 

“You’re injured,” Preston pointed out. “Now shut up and let me fix you up.”

“Awful nurse,” Liam complained once more before he shut up with a soft hiss. Then he concentrated on sitting still, feeling as Preston tended to his injuries. Usually, he was the one who patched himself up, having been on the run for so long with no one to help him. Even after he’d saved Preston from the fire, Liam hadn’t expected Preston to look after him. Though that was because Preston was recovering and Liam had been looking after him. Come to think of it, Liam hadn’t needed to rely on Preston. 

_Now he did._ “Fuck!” Liam reflexively brought his hand away from Preston before being told to shut up as Preston grabbed for him again. He focused on Preston’s hands, his breathing, and then the man himself. Winter personified, Preston’s hair was blindingly blond and his eyes were bright blue: the kind of eyes one lost themselves in. Liam had often thought about what it would be like to wake up to those ice-shaded orbs. Or what it would be like to fall asleep in Preston’s arms. Neither were acceptable thoughts, of course, because he was Liam Bell and Liam Bell wasn’t allowed the kind of happiness that romantic affection brought. 

Abruptly, he was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a gentle press of lips against his hand. He blinked at Preston, confusion filtered through his system as Preston smirked up at him. “What?” He asked dumbly. 

"You're overthinking again," Preston replied. "You have that dazed 'I shouldn't be allowed this,' look you always get whenever someone does something nice to you." When Liam opened his mouth to protest, Preston continued. "Yes you do. We've spent a year together: I've learned all your tricks, Bells." He let Liam's hand go before he moved to a more comfortable position, raising his fingers to gently ghost against Liam's cheek. 

Liam visibly swallowed, eyes locked on Preston's. "So?" The warmth that radiated off of Preston’s fingers was enough to make Liam lean closer. He wanted that warmth more than he let on. The problem was that he wasn’t allowed this, so he should back up. Desire won over logic, however, and he sighed when those warm fingers caressed him now. 

“So, I see right through you.” Preston’s voice was calm. 

“Is that right?” Was all Liam managed. Being this close was like there was scarcely air enough for words and his thoughts were… Scattered in places he usually didn’t let them. 

Preston’s eyes flickered down, then met Liam’s again. “I think it is. Do you want to know what I see?” 

Liam swallowed. “A fool who got his ass kicked?” He supplied, proud that his voice hadn’t cracked as he spoke. 

“A fighter,” Preston corrected. He raised his other hand and properly cupped Liam’s cheeks and offered a smile. “I see someone who fights even when the world is crumbling around him. I see a strong-willed, albeit cocky, fighter who wants to prove himself _to someone_. I see someone who deserves a break; a chance to relax and be himself. _I see you, Liam Bell_.” 

If Liam hadn’t been glassy-eyed before, he was now. He told himself that he sniffled because of allergies, but the truth was that Preston’s words struck a chord. They opened a door deep inside Liam that had been sealed shut and cautioned off with tape. A door with so many locks that even he hadn’t been able to open it. For three seconds straight, Liam opened and closed his mouth, wordless noises coming out instead of coherent sentences. 

“Have I left you speechless?” Preston asked, the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile. “Good, because you leave me rambling like I’ve had too much stored up and now I finally have someone who will listen.” 

“I love it when you ramble,” Liam admitted. He liked Preston’s voice; he’d listen to it all day if Preston let him. He glanced down at Preston’s lips as they parted. Then he took in their situation. They were so close. When had they gotten so close? It didn’t matter because he had only a second to hear the beginning of his name on Preston’s lips before his own were captured in a kiss. 

It was hard not to link fire with Preston. Fire and rubble and a collapsed building surrounding them, the reminder of Preston's near death last year followed them everywhere. However, in this moment, Liam decided that Preston was a wildfire. The kiss burned his already damaged lips and dared him to pull away. It scorched through him with a kiss that promised there would be no one else kissing Liam for another century.

A surprised laugh fell from his lips as Preston pulled back only to tilt Liam’s head up. Preston’s eyes housed a blizzard so unlike the fiery kiss Liam had just received. Cold, yet caring. If Preston’s fire didn’t consume Liam, then the snowstorm in his eyes would. 

The kiss was worth it. 

“I don’t think nurses kiss their patients,” he teased. 

The unamused look Preston rewarded Liam with was also worth it. Preston rolled his eyes then he slid a hand behind Liam’s neck and pressed their lips together once more. “I think I recall your porn selection saying otherwise.” 

Liam let out an affronted gasp. “You went through my porn collection?” 

“Had to have something to do while you were out pretending to be a ghost for Cross and the others.” 

“Wow, you really are a bad nurse,” Liam huffed. He remembered a time back when Preston didn’t joke. Preston hadn’t done a lot of things back then- back after the incident. He mostly just wobbled around, made demands, and focused on getting better. The fact that he joked now meant more to Liam than he let on. 

Preston winked at him, “You like it.”

He smiled at Preston. “I do.” 

He liked a lot of things about the new and improved Preston. He was still the same man he was before everything went to hell, but he was also so different. Joking and talking more aside, Preston was opening up in a way Liam knew Preston never opened up to Cross for. It made Liam feel special.

"You are special, idiot," Preston said. 

"Did I say that out loud?" Liam frowned. He hadn't meant to. 

'No, I'm suddenly magic and know that you're desperately in love with me," Preston deadpanned.

Liam’s breath hitched as he eyed Preston. _Love_. Liam wasn’t scared of commitment. Secretly it was something he longed for. He’d wanted it with Tyler. He’d wanted it with countless, nameless other partners who eventually either left him or betrayed him. 

As he looked at Preston, he realized that maybe that was a word to describe his feelings. But wasn’t it too soon? Liam averted his eyes from Preston and pursed his lips. They’d known each other longer than that “first meeting” in Miami. They’d danced together at clubs, meeting various times throughout the years while undercover. Then they spent a whole year of recovery together, hidden from the world and Sidewinder and Preston’s chosen family. 

_But love?_

His expression must have fallen because Preston suddenly looked concerned. “Li?” He prompted. “Was that too much?”

 _Too much and not enough_ , Liam thought. “Sorry, thinking.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to stop overthinking,” Preston scowled, though it was obvious he wasn’t angry. “Focus on me today, okay?” 

That was the easiest thing anyone had ever asked him to do. “I’m going to call you Bossy Nurse Preston from now on.” 

“Do it and I won’t get some ice for your eye.” 

“See! You’re also an asshole!” 

Nerves settled and mind assuaged, Liam glared at Preston. Though it was more of a squint because of his eye than a real glare. Oh well. He liked that Preston distracted him so easily. “Even if you’re an asshole, I still appreciate you.”

Preston snorted. “Good because once that is healed,” he gestured to Liam’s entire face. Asshole. “We’ll try that Thai place and then see about resurrecting ourselves for society’s sake.”

“It’s like you want Cross and Tyler to punch us- _me_ -no, you- **no, us**. They’re going to punch us both.” 

“Isn’t that just a friendly greeting for all of us now?” Preston’s icy eyes glinted with excitement. 

“That shouldn’t excite you,” Liam pointed out. 

Preston just grinned at him. He stood and leaned over Liam, kissing his forehead tenderly. “I’ll teach you how to hold your own against Tyler. That way if he punches you it’ll be your fault for not getting out of the way.” 

“This is the most exciting pep talk I’ve gotten in years,” Liam commented dryly. 

“You have time to think about resurrection before our Thai date on Friday. Now wait here while I be a good nurse and get you ice.” He retreated out of the room as if he owned the place. 

“I hate you,” he called after Preston. When he heard Preston laughing from the other room, Liam held back a smile. He didn’t hate Preston. Though the idea of being punched, again, by Tyler- and hypothetically Cross too- wasn’t a pleasing one, the idea that he would be ‘resurrecting’ with Preston outweighed the negative. 


End file.
